


love the way you shine

by shinykari (meinterrupted)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Uniform Kink, insults as endearments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinterrupted/pseuds/shinykari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>But you're keeping the outfit, right? / You know what? It's kinda grown on me.</em>
</p>
<p>Steve, Bucky, and Steve's Captain America costume.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love the way you shine

**Author's Note:**

> I have been wrestling with this story for weeks now. I started it back in October (when I realized kink_bingo was due on 31 Oct) and it was supposed to be straight smut until the boys went and got their feelings all over it. I stopped and started multiple times over the next few weeks, far more than should be necessary for a < 2000 word story. And it also turned out far less uniform-kinky than intended.
> 
> Based around the dialogue exchange between Steve and Bucky in the bar during Captain America: The First Avenger:   
> _Bucky_ : But you're keeping the outfit, right?  
>  _Steve_ : You know what? It's kinda grown on me.
> 
> Title from "Goodbye in Her Eyes" by the Zac Brown Band. All mistakes are mine.

The doc in the medical tent had cleared Bucky--or rather, had kicked him out with a flask of cheap whiskey because he said he needed the bed space for more severely injured soldiers. Bucky took the booze and left without complaint; he'd never liked doctor's offices or hospitals, because they always reminded him of how frail Steve was, how close he came to losing the most important person in his life every time the wind blew funny.

Of course, that wasn't really a problem anymore, was it? Steve was Captain fucking America now, all broad shoulders and hard muscles where they was once only skin and bone. He'd fought his way through a base full of HYDRA agents to rescue what remained of the 107th--what remained of Bucky after being strapped to that scientist's table--and had looked barely winded. 

Bucky asked a couple people where he could find Captain Rogers, and made his way toward Steve's tent. It was the same green canvas as his own, but not nearly as threadbare, and better yet, Steve didn't share it with three other soldiers. He called out Steve's name but didn't wait for an answer before ducking under the flap.

Steve was lying on his cot, a sketchbook forgotten on his stomach and a pencil hanging from limp fingers. He hadn't changed his clothes, just thrown his leather motorcycle jacket over a chair and kicked off his boots. His cargos were stained with dirt and blood that was certainly getting on his bedding, and he was still wearing the damn stars and stripes on his absurdly broad chest. It was so strange, seeing this enormous man where there had once been Bucky's small, frail Steve, and for a moment, he almost backed out.

Then Steve sat up and met his gaze with those damn blue eyes that hadn't changed at all. "Bucky," he breathed. "They cleared you?"

Bucky shrugged. "I wasn't bleeding or missing a limb, so I went to the bottom of the list." He sat next to Steve, close enough that he could feel the heat from Steve's new body, but not quite close enough to touch. He pulled out the flask and wiggled it at Steve with a half-hearted grin. "Got my prescription, though."

"Bucky," Steve said, and there it was, Steve's half-amused, half-resigned 'Bucky-voice' the one he used whenever he disapproved of whatever half-cocked plan Bucky'd dreamed up. 

Bucky unscrewed the flask and took a swig; it tasted like wood chips and burned like gasoline. "Whoa," he muttered, coughing as the alcohol fumes made his eyes water. "Want some?"

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "No, thanks."

Bucky shrugged and took another swig. It didn't burn quite as much this time, and a heady warmth was already radiating out from his gut. He screwed the top back on and turned to look at Steve. "So." He waved his hand to indicate his best friend's newly-muscled body. "Explain."

Steve looked away, his face flushing. "It's a long story," he mumbled.

"I have all night," Bucky retorted.

Sighing, Steve rested his elbows on his thighs, hunching over, as if that would make him smaller somehow. He explained about Dr. Erskine, about the modified basic training, about the serum. He told Bucky how Dr. Erskine had died, killed by the same men who'd taken the 107th, and the months he spent as the Senator's dancing monkey. "And then, well. Colonel Phillips said you were dead, and I didn't have anything left to lose," he finished, his voice small and tired.

Bucky cursed and opened the flask again to take another long swig. "Jesus, Rogers, you could have _died_!"

"And if I hadn't shown up, you _would_ have," he shot back, turning his earnest blue eyes on Bucky. "Along with all those other men. And that's unacceptable."

Bucky's chest felt too tight as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. His tongue was thick in his mouth and he had to look away from Steve to get himself under control. The thought of Steve dying for him--for anyone--was unacceptable. "Rogers, you dumb punk," he breathed, and threw one arm around Steve's stupidly broad shoulders, pulling him close. Their foreheads touched, and he could feel Steve's breath warm against his lips. He smelled like sweat and blood and Steve, and for a moment, all Bucky wanted to do was haul him close and kiss him senseless.

"Jerk. You can't even say thank you for me saving your life," Steve whispered, and he was so close, Bucky could see flecks of green in the thin ring of blue around his dilated pupils. Steve's chest heaved and his breath stuttered, and for a half-second, Bucky thought he was having an asthma attack. Then Steve's gaze dropped to Bucky's mouth, and Bucky felt himself go a little crazy.

Bucky's breath caught in his throat as he surged up and tangled his fingers in Steve's hair to press his lips harshly against Steve's. For a moment, Steve was utterly still. Bucky was just about to pull back when Steve groaned and wrapped his hands around Bucky's upper arms, keeping him close.

"Bucky," Steve said, his voice low and reverent. Bucky's cock, already half-hard from the feel of Steve's lips on his own, thickened further at his friend's tone. He tilted his head to get a better angle, and opened his mouth, touching the tip of his tongue to Steve's lips. Steve got the hint immediately and did the same; Bucky had a moment of jealousy for whatever dame taught Steve to kiss before he lost himself in the slick slide of Steve's mouth.

Steve's lips were soft and warm, a distinct contrast to the rasp of stubble on his chin, and he tasted like Army coffee and toothpowder. Bucky nipped at Steve's bottom lip, drawing a moan from him, and Bucky chuckled. "Damn it, Rogers, I can't believe you," he panted in between fierce kisses. "I can't believe you thought I'd leave you there to die. I told you not to do anything stupid 'til I got back."

"Had-- had to make sure you--uh--got back," Steve stuttered as Bucky scraped his teeth against Steve's jaw and nudged him backward. Steve toppled back onto the cot, pulling Bucky on top of him.

"And what's with the stars and stripes?" Bucky asked as he kissed the line above Steve's collar.

Steve bucked up and let out a little whine as Bucky ground shamelessly against him. "Costume," he whimpered. "Was--uh--what I had on."

Bucky pressed his face against Steve's chest and let out a chuckle. "Now I know you care, since you didn't even take the time to change." He thrust forward, grunting softly as his erection rubbed painfully against his fly. He reached between them and fumbled with the buttons; after a moment, Steve's big hands joined him, and nimbly freed his own cock. Bucky swallowed hard at the sight of Steve's dick, hard and flushed with arousal, with a bead of moisture at the tip. "Did that get bigger, too?" he asked, voice a little shaky.

Steve blushed and looked away. "No, I-- OH!"

Bucky smirked as a pointed thrust cut off Steve's embarrassment. "I wasn't complaining, punk," he said, punctuating each syllable with another slide of his cock against Steve's. "You need to learn to take a compliment."

And then there wasn't breath for more words, as Bucky licked his palm with barely-exaggerated glee and propped himself up with the other arm. He slid his wet hand between them, wrapped his hand around both of their erections, drawing a gasp from Steve, and began thrusting into his fist. Steve whined and covered Bucky's hand with his own, his breath stuttering after a few moments as he shuddered and came. Bucky growled and kept going, the hot slick of Steve's come easing the way for his own climax a minute later. With a weary sigh, he collapsed onto Steve, burying his face into the warmth of Steve's neck.

After a moment, Bucky felt Steve's hands reach up to gently rub his back. "Bucky--" he started, his voice pleading.

"When I was in that cell," Bucky said, interrupting whatever Steve was about to say, "then strapped to that table, the only thing I was thinking was that I'd never see you again. That without me there to watch your back, you'd get into a fight you wouldn't walk away from. That was worse than what they did to me, the thought of you dying."

Steve squeezed him tight--more tightly than he'd ever been able to before--and rubbed his face against Bucky's hair. "I'm not dead, you're not dead, and now you're here to keep me from doing anything stupid like that again," he murmured. He chuckled, the sound vibrating pleasantly through Bucky's chest. "Now get up, we've probably already stained my shirt."

Bucky sat up and tugged Steve with him. "Hey, maybe no one will notice," he said, smirking as he poked the puddle of white on the blue edge of the costume. "We'll make it look like another star."

Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed an undershirt from his laundry to clean them both up. "You're ridiculous," he muttered, leaning in to press a swift kiss to Bucky's lips. Bucky's cock twitched with interest when Steven rubbed the soft cotton over it, but it was too soon for anything more.

Bucky buttoned his pants as he watched Steve clean himself up and tuck his dick away. "I dunno, don't you need 47 more stars to make you really look like the flag? Well, 46, if we count this one," he joked.

"Jerk," Steve retorted, and tossed the soiled undershirt on the floor and settled himself back on the cot next to Bucky. "Besides, I figure I won't need this anymore; I think I proved my worth as something other than a chorus girl."

Bucky cocked his head to the side and shrugged. "I like it. It's very... you. And it's so bright, it'll be easy for me to keep an eye on you." Steve looked down at himself and pursed his lips. Before he could say anything else, Bucky said, "Besides, people back home still need someone to believe in. They already believe in Captain America."

Steve met his eyes, looking so young and uncertain that Bucky's heart stuttered in his chest. "And you, Bucky? You believe in Captain America?"

Bucky grinned. "Nah. I believe in Steve Rogers."

"I'll think about it," he said as he rolled his eyes and leaned in closer, until there was just a few inches separating their mouths. 

Bucky quickly closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Steve's. "You better," he murmured, words nearly lost in the feel of Steve's tongue against his.

**Author's Note:**

> Alaska and Hawaii were admitted to the Union in 1959; during WWII, there were only 48 states. I wasn't able to find out for sure if WWII army uniforms had button or zipper flies, so I just went with buttons.


End file.
